The Rise and Fall of Dante
by Tastywheat
Summary: The story of how Trinity was freed. Can she live up to the expectations of the Anubis crew, or will her failure lead to their destruction? Title is a working title.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just...borrowing some of them for fun. PROLOGUE  
  
The two men stood before the half a dozen monitors, watching the lines of eerie green code trickle down the screen. One, clearly older from the lines etched on his face by years of fighting with the resistance, carefully regarded the other, in whose eyes still burned the light of belief. The older man brushed back a lock of limp blond hair, crossed his arms and leaned against the monitor stand.  
  
"She looks promising, but what makes you think she might be the One?" asked the older man. This wasn't the first time his second-in-command got excited over a potential.  
  
"Her mind is very sharp, and her hacking skills are far more impressive than mine were at 15," answered the young man.  
  
The captain of the Anubis raised an eyebrow in question. He trusted Morpheus' judgment when it came to potentials, but the younger man had a habit of being hopeful. Hope was a valuable commodity for the resistance, but it was also a dangerous one. It was what kept Dante fighting for something he never live to see: the rise of the One and the emancipation of mankind. He knew that he would die before humanity's triumph over the machines, just as he knew that his death would not be in vain. The Oracle had told him so. It was a small consolation for what was otherwise a hard and defeating existence.  
  
He still hadn't answered Morpheus. The younger man started to look a little less confident about his belief, but wouldn't back down.  
  
"She has been looking for the answer for nine months now, and has managed to stay out of danger," continued Morpheus. "There's something different about this one, I can feel it. There's a sense of destiny surrounding her."  
  
Dante considered this, wondering if there was another reason behind the young man's conviction. Dante had freed Morpheus nearly ten years ago, when he recognized the young man's resourcefulness, his tenacity, and his wisdom that belied his youth. In Morpheus, Dante found a determination and blind faith in the prophecy that reminded him of his younger self, before reality and repeated failures to make headway began eating away at his own beliefs. By freeing Morpheus, Dante found a way to keep the bitterness and hopelessness at bay. If failures made Dante more pessimistic and cynical, they made Morpheus believe even more in the prophecy. Dante wondered if this desperate faith would lead his second-in-command to see a savior in every potential.  
  
"What's her hacker name?" asked Dante. "Trinity," replied Morpheus.  
  
"Keep an eye on her," he said, ending their conversation. "If she gets closer to the truth in a few months without getting killed, then we'll consider making contact." Dante left and returned to the mess hall.  
  
Morpheus watched his commander's retreating back, noting the way his ash- blond hair hung limply just above his shoulders, mirroring the way his shoulders slumped a little more with each passing year. It was hard watching the man whom he thought of as his role model, his hero, slowly giving in to reality. It made Morpheus try that much harder to be there for his mentor, to be everything that was required of him. Above all, it made him try that much harder to fulfill the Oracle's prophecy: that he will find the One. 


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
*three years earlier*  
  
It had started out as a hobby, a way to escape reality. Catherine hated going to the school's library because she hated the way the librarians kept an eye on everything, as if they were waiting for her to steal one of their precious books. The head librarian marched around the shelves and tables on patrol and even had a German accent. That led the kids to dub her the Book Nazi. She was especially harsh on the quiet ones, watching them like a hawk. It was as if she could sense a student's outsider status and decided to capitalize on it. Like a predator, she always went after the weak ones.   
  
Catherine was one of those outsiders. On one hand, she envied the girls who had the nice hair, the stylish clothes, the rich boyfriends, and who got invited to all of the parties. She could have easily fitted in; she had long legs, short dark hair, light and clear skin, and an angular face. Watching the popular girls reminded her of what her life could have been if her parents hadn't gotten divorced when she was eight. Before the divorce, Catherine had been a happy, carefree child. She had the best of everything: big house with a swimming pool, soccer practice, and a chest full of toys. Her mother always brushed her hair and read her bedtime stories. Her father was colder, less attentive, but Catherine assumed that he was just busy. She rarely saw him anyways so it didn't matter, he was always out late and never came back before she was asleep.  
  
Then her dad decided that he needed a younger, skankier trophy wife and since Catherine's mom signed a pre-nup, divorce was a win-win situation for him. He practically tossed them out of the house. Catherine's mom came home after picking their daughter up from swimming lessons to find her bags on the lawn and one of her shoes acting as a paperweight for the divorce papers. Catherine had never seen her mother so upset. She couldn't understand the situation. What happened? What did her mother mean when she said that they had to leave? Where was her father?  
  
On the other hand, Catherine was too proud and independent to want to be popular. She saw how all of the girls kissed ass just to be liked, and then once they became popular, they turned around and stabbed each other in the back. It was all just a stupid game of king of the hill. And for what? So that the popular guys, who played the same game, would notice them. The whole idea made Catherine want to puke.   
  
Since her parents' divorce, she had pretty much survived on her own. Her mother moved back in with her parents for a while, trying to save up enough money to get a run-down apartment. The divorce had left her penniless and without marketable job skills. She never imagined that her ex-husband would replace her one day without warning. Everyone always said that once you married a rich guy, you'd be set for life. She was pretty enough and naïve enough to believe that she could do just that. It hadn't worked out as planned though. She wasn't supposed to get pregnant, wasn't supposed to lose her figure, wasn't supposed to age. He had thrown a fit when she told him that she was pregnant, shattering one of the living room vases against the wall and storming out of the house. She didn't know what to do except clean up the mess and cry herself to sleep. He came back two nights later, saying that she could remain his wife and that she must keep the baby-he was Catholic and an abortion was out of the question. However, he would have nothing to do with the child, he didn't want it in the first place. Catherine's mother thought that the worst was over, and that they would live happily ever after. She was twenty-one at the time.  
  
Divorced at thirty, Catherine's mom used her charms to get a job as a waitress at a local bar. She always offered whatever she earned in tips to Catherine, so that she could go do "fun things," but Catherine always refused, knowing how much they needed to keep up with rent and food. They couldn't afford nice things like Nike shoes and Roxy jeans, which made Catherine an outsider at school. Catherine, at age ten, started taking money under the table for cleaning out storerooms for local shops. She never had time to develop friendships because she was either working or learning. Or rather, she was searching, searching for a way to get back to where she used to be: happy, loved, and innocent. She started reading books and putting up with school librarians, thinking that education was the way out. She tried reading "the classics" but found them boring and inscrutable. Literature had too many meanings and interpretations; there was nothing concrete about it. She turned to other areas. At age eleven, her teachers discovered that she was mathematically gifted, and started placing her in higher math classes. By the time she was in junior high, she was taking geometry with the high school kids across the street. This only caused her to become even more of an outcast. She was not only the poor, weird girl, she was also a nerd, a freak.  
  
Catherine learned quickly how uncaring the world could be. When she found out why her parents had gotten a divorce, she became even more cynical and rebellious. She saw her father for the shallow hypocrite he was, and vowed that she would never be as naïve as her mother. She would be strong and capable of taking care of herself. She would never make the same mistake her mother did, leaving her life in the hands of others only to be blindsided by her own foolishness.   
  
Her quest for stable knowledge eventually led her past math and into computers. The high school library got its first computer lab when she was in seventh grade and taking geometry with sophomores. On the way to math class, she saw the new computers through the window. Students were typing diligently while the Book Nazi paced at the end of the room, giving out instructions. Catherine looked around, saw that no one was paying attention to her as usual, and crept up against the window to watch.   
  
Most of the kids looked bored as they practiced typing words like "car," "card," "care," "carp," and so on. One kid, though, was doing something else. Catherine couldn't see what he was doing, but he was completely absorbed in it. So much so, that he didn't notice that the Book Nazi had stopped until she shouted out, "Joseph! What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Uhhhhh......," said the unfortunate student, looking around wildly for an excuse. He happened to look out the window and caught Catherine peeking in. The Book Nazi followed his gaze and saw her too.  
  
"Uh oh," thought Catherine as she ducked and scooted away from the window. The bell had rung ten minutes ago-Catherine was usually late to class-and she didn't want to be caught outside without a hall pass. She rounded the corner just as the computer lab door opened.  
  
"Hey! Young lady, where's your pass? Hey!"  
  
But she was already gone.  
  
After class was over, Catherine packed up her books and headed back toward the junior high, making sure to pass by the library. The kids from the computer class were just trickling out of the side door. Catherine watched them until that boy-Joseph was his name?-saw her and started coming toward her.  
  
"Shit," thought Catherine, hunching her shoulders and speeding up her walk. He caught up to her anyways.  
  
"Hi," he said, giving her a smile.  
  
"Hi," she grumbled back.  
  
"What's with the attitude?"  
  
"You almost got me in trouble. You coming back for more?"  
  
"Oh, sorry about that," he said, giving her a sheepish grin. "I had to get the Book Nazi off my back."  
  
Catherine said nothing but kept walking.  
  
"My name's Joe, by the way," he said, ignoring her scowl. "I was wondering if you liked computers."  
  
Catherine stopped. She looked at him, saw sincerity in his brown eyes. He looked like a sophomore with pale skin, skinny legs, and short-cropped curly black hair. Something about him annoyed her. He was trying to hard to be nice, even though he seemed sincere, as if he sensed she was an outcast and wanted to befriend her. Well, she didn't need anyone's charity.  
  
"What's your deal, huh? I don't know you, you don't know me, so you don't need to give me lame lines in hopes of getting on my good side," she said. "And now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class." She turned and started walking away.  
  
"Hey, if you ever want to actually talk, you know where I'll be every third period," he called after her. "I know this isn't the real you. You're looking for something to hold on to, you're waiting for something. Why don't you make some friends while waiting?"  
  
She stopped in her tracks. Who was this guy and how dare he say all these things about her? He didn't know who she was, where she came from.   
  
"Listen, jerk," she said, turning back to him. "You don't know anything about me, so why don't you mind your own business and stop mouthing off about things you don't know about?"  
  
"Hey, easy there, I'm sorry," he said, putting his hands up in surrender. "I know that I don't know much about you, but I do know some things. I know your name's Catherine and that you go to the junior high. I was in your algebra class last year as a freshman and I saw the way you acted in class, like you were bored stiff and just doing your time here. You weren't even paying attention, while everyone else was taking notes like crazy. You're different from most people here. I just wanted to get to know you."  
  
That seemed to work a little better, he noted, as she started to relax her defensive posture. Encouraged by this, he went on.  
  
"Look, I think we can help each other out here. I saw you looking at those computers like they were candy. I'll teach you how to work those things, and you teach me how to find the apothem of a triangle."  
  
The bell rang at that moment.  
  
A student walking by shouted out, "Hey Joe, quit talking to the nerd girl and get your ass over here."  
  
"Shut up, man, I'm talking to her. I'll meet you in class."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Joe turned back to Catherine. "Sorry about that, he's really not that bad once you get to know him."  
  
Catherine nodded, but Joe could see that the defenses were back up.  
  
"Anyways, here's my phone number," he said, scribbling it onto a scrap of paper. "Give me a call if you're willing to trade."  
  
"I don't need your help, I can learn about computers on my own." Catherine took the paper and stuffed it into her back pocket.  
  
"You'll need one to practice on though, and unless you like having the Book Nazi marching around you, you can come over and use mine."  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
"Let me know soon. Tomorrow night's pasta night at my house, and you're welcome to stay for dinner," he said, giving her his most charming smile.  
  
She waited a week before calling him. She didn't want to be anyone's charity project, but he seemed sincere and she had had a lot of practice reading people. Besides, he was right: she was fascinated by computers. She had read a few books and articles on them, found out what they could do and what cutting edge computer programmers were doing. One idea that intrigued her was using telephone lines to connect computers to each other. The article said that the military was experimenting with this idea as a way to communicate secretly. She devoured books on programming languages and computer codes and was eager to test her knowledge. Programming was like math; it stimulated her analytical and creative problem solving side, and like math, computers would never have wishy-washy interpretations and multiple levels of meaning. A computer wouldn't betray you.  
  
She waited a week because she needed time to think about what he'd said. Was she waiting for something? If she was, she didn't know what. But the more she thought about it, the more she saw that it was true. All of the time spent learning, searching for a way out, and she hadn't really stopped to think about what she was trying to escape or what she was preparing for. She just felt this inner drive to know, and assumed that it was because everyone said that education was the way out. The way out of what? If you wanted to become successful and rich-not living off of canned beans and macaroni like she was, or slowly dying of lung disease from being a bar waitress like her mother-you had to go to college, get a degree, and start climbing up the corporate ladder, only to........what? End up like her dad? Was she trying to reclaim her childhood? Hell no! She hated her father for what he did to her and her mother. But then what else was there? She knew that there had to be something beyond the rat race. Maybe that's what she was waiting for: the answer to her future. 


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
*one year later*  
  
"Hey Joe," said Catherine, dropping her backpack on the floor. She kicked off her shoes and plopped herself onto the edge of his bed.  
  
Joe's room was starting to feel like a second home to Catherine. They started becoming friends ever since she started coming over to tutor him in math and use his computer. Mr. and Mrs. Cabalero appreciated her "helping out our Joey with his homework." Catherine really appreciated their kindness and generosity. They treated her like a member of the family, and even Joe was starting to joke that she was like the little sister he never wanted to have. In such a warm environment, Catherine started letting her guard down. She had to admit, the Cabaleros were the Italian/Hispanic version of the Brady Bunch. With her mother working nights and Catherine pretty much left alone in the house all the time, it was nice to get away and be in a family setting. Joe gave her rides to her workplace in his new hand-me-down Toyota most days, and she sometimes walked over to his house afterwards, especially if her mom was working and there was no food in the house.  
  
"Hold up, just a sec," he said, still typing away at his study desk. Catherine went over and peered over his shoulder.  
  
"Do you want to know your grades?" asked Joe.  
  
"Is this what you asked me over to find out?"  
  
"Well, sort of," he said, smiling mischievously. "Do you want to see?"  
  
"Sure, why not. I already know what they are though."  
  
"Viola," he gestured, triumphantly. "Feast your eyes on the product of my genius."   
  
On the screen was the Washington Middle School registrar's list of grades for Mr. Cheney's fifth period history class. Catherine was getting a B+, just as she expected.  
  
"Not bad," she said. "What would really impress me is if you could change that B+ to an A- without getting caught."  
  
"No problem," he said. "How do you think I've managed to stay eligible for the basketball team?"  
  
"Joe!" she said, smacking him on the shoulder. "I thought you really were improving."  
  
"Relax, Smurf, I didn't change my math grade. I actually earned that one." He called her Smurf because she was a midget compared his six-foot frame. True, she was still growing and she was tall for her age, but admitting that would take all of the fun away. Besides, she hated being called that.  
  
"Aren't you gonna ask me how I did it?" he asked.  
  
"No, but you're probably going to tell me anyways."  
  
"Well, if you don't want to learn from the master, midget cricket, then I won't tell you."  
  
"Don't need you to tell me, egoist maximus. I bet I can out-hack you if you give me two weeks."  
  
"Yeah? I'd like to see that. It took me a month just to figure out how to get into the high school's computers. You think you can hack the high school's AND the junior high's in two weeks?"  
  
"Maybe not two weeks, but definitely faster than it took you. Give me three weeks."  
  
"That sounds like a challenge."  
  
"Maybe it is. What's it to you?"  
  
Joe thought for a moment. This could definitely be interesting.  
  
"Well, I have the SATs coming up and I know I'll need help with that. How about, if I win and you can't do it in three weeks, you'll tutor me in SAT math AND clean my room."  
  
"Alright, and if I win?"  
  
"I'll give you this computer."  
  
"Serious?" She couldn't believe it. Her own computer?  
  
"Yeah, my parents are going to get a new one with their end-of-the-year bonuses, and we weren't sure what to do with this one."  
  
"Alright, but your computer is old. What else you got to offer?"  
  
"How about a high chair so you can sit and type at the same time?"  
  
"Shut up, I'm not that short," she said, laughing despite the dig.  
  
"A footstool so your little legs can rest on something?"  
  
"Shut up!" Smack, right upside the head.   
  
Joe looked like he was about to fall out of his chair from laughing.   
  
"You know you're only tall so that your body would be proportional to your ego-inflated head," feigning annoyance.  
  
Catherine started gleaning as much information as she could from books and the computer club kids. She experimented on the computers in the high school's lab, and quickly made some headway. It was simply a matter of understanding how the system worked, having the right skills, and messing with the computer until it jumped through hoops for her. The only thing holding her back was that damned librarian always looking over her shoulder. She had to keep an eye out and be ready to switch windows discreetly, so that it would look like she was just typing an essay. She got into the high school's system after two weeks, and into the junior high system four days later. The next day, she became the proud owner of a shitty old computer and a regular-sized chair.  
  
********************************************  
  
Now that Catherine had her own computer, she was able to mess with it to her heart's content. Her eighth grade year went by in a blur. Most days, she'd drag herself out of bed in time to barely catch the bus to school-her mom was usually passed out on the couch from exhaustion and liquor that she stole from the bar's storage room. School would be boring, she'd just sit there and think about what she might do on the computer. The Internet was starting to become known to people who didn't have two-inch thick glasses and who couldn't program in three languages. Usually, Catherine just went through the motions of going to school, got a ride from Joe to her job as cashier at neighborhood grocery store, plastered a smile on her face until she got off from work, and went home to tool around online until she barely had enough energy to drag herself to bed. She even picked out a username for herself: Trinity. It just felt right, and it symbolized the completeness that she had always been searching for.   
  
Joe was busy with college applications, senior parties, and his new girlfriend, Gina. That was fine with Catherine, because she was starting to establish her own identity online, pulling small hacking feats for her own amusement and sending nasty viruses (her own creations) to people who picked on her. She once created a virus she called SmurfPimp that she snuck onto Joe's computer, which caused porn pop-ups to plague him whenever he signed on. Joe retaliated with EgoFreak, which changed everything on her computer-wallpaper, screensaver, cursor, and all icons-into pictures of his face. They still hung out once a week at his house. Joe was going to be a computer science major, even though his buddies teased him about "going geek on them." Catherine was worried what would happen once he went off to college and she was still stuck in high school, feeling more trapped than ever. Joe was the only real friend she had and the Cabaleros were the closest thing to a family that she had. She knew that she'd be just fine without him, but she was going to miss him. His life was going somewhere though, and she was happy for him. 


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
*eight months later*  
  
It had rained again. Catherine slammed the front door shut and threw her dripping bag in the corner. It had been a long day at school and an even longer on at the grocery store, and the beep of the bar scanner was still ringing in her ears. At least she didn't have calculus homework (not that it was hard, just busywork). Sophomore year was shaping up to be just like freshman year: boring, tiresome, and frustrating. The feeling that she was like a rat on one of those running wheels, that she was moving but going nowhere, nagged at her more than ever. Guess they didn't call it the rat race for nothing.  
  
Her mom was out working, as usual. There was a note on the grimy counter saying that they were out of milk. Catherine sighed, made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and went to her computer. She now led two lives: Catherine, the brilliant but quiet girl with no friends, and Trinity, who did favors for a small fee for online acquaintances. It wasn't anything big: erasing an overdue bill here, changing a grade there, digging up dirt on various people, and occasionally dropping a nasty virus into someone's lap. It kept her from pulling her hair out from boredom and allowed her to save up for a nicer computer. Meanwhile, she was testing the boundaries of the Internet and her hacking skills, sneaking into different systems and databases just to see if she could do it. Also, it was fun to one-up Joe this way, who still wouldn't admit that she was better at it than him.  
  
Turning on the computer, she hoped to see a message from Joe. He was usually pretty good about writing to her, especially since he went off to the state university three months ago. She hadn't heard from him in three weeks though, and even though she tried not to feel hurt-he was probably caught up in frat parties and settling into college-she wondered if it would take all that much time for him to leave her a note. She hoped he was alright, that he wasn't sick or anything.  
  
Just as she hoped, there was a message waiting for her from Joe. The message was short, and made her stomach drop like missile.  
  
Cat,  
  
Be careful. They're watching. It's not a game anymore.  
  
Joe  
  
The message was from two hours ago. She called his dorm room, but got his roommate. Joe was out, left in a hurry without saying anything. No, he didn't know where he went.  
  
"Shit," thought Catherine. What happened?  
  
Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Should she answer it? She wasn't expecting anyone.  
  
"Catherine, it's me." Joe.  
  
She went over and opened the door.  
  
"Joe, what happened? I just got your message."  
  
"No time to explain, but I need you to be careful," he said, keeping his voice down and staying away from the windows.  
  
"Why, what's going on?" He was worrying her; she'd never seen him like this. He was usually so happy and in a joking mood. Now he was pacing back and forth across her living room.  
  
"Shhhhhh.....they're watching you," he said, stopping his pacing, but with eyes still wandering around the room like he was searching for something. "They've been watching us all along."  
  
"Who? What the hell is going on, Joe? Just give me a straight answer," her worry turning into frustration.  
  
"Alright, two months ago I joined this secret club for comp-sci majors only. We mostly created viruses and hacked around for shits and giggles. Recently, we started hacking government databases. I'm talking the big time here, NSA, FBI, and the IRS. Granted, it probably wasn't the brightest idea, but people have done it before. It was a game to us, to see who could outdo the other, like you and I used to play. Then about two weeks ago, Jason, who goes by the hacker name Dion, found something that he wasn't supposed to." Joe stopped.  
  
"What? What was it? Tell me!"   
  
She was getting scared now. Joe wasn't supposed to look like this, as if he was being hunted. This wasn't the person she hugged goodbye before he went to college.   
  
"Joe? Joe, you alright?"   
  
He didn't seem to hear her. Instead, he was concentrating on something else. She tried to listen too, but her mind was whirling. Suddenly, he snapped out of it.  
  
"Listen to me, Cat, and listen carefully," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "If anything-  
  
Knock, knock. Someone was at the door.  
  
"What the--?" Catherine looked at the door. She could see the outlines of three men, probably in business suits.   
  
"They're here!" Joe whispered, swallowing hard.  
  
Knock, knock. Oh shit.  
  
Joe grabbed her hand and forced her to focus.  
  
"Cat, if anything happens to me, find Dion. Ask about the Kansas City IRS."  
  
"The IRS? But Joe-" There was a crash as the glass on the front door was smashed. An arm reached in and turned the knob. Oh my God.  
  
"Run, Cat!" whispered Joe, before getting up and launching himself at the door.  
  
She didn't even look back as she shot off from the living room, through the main bedroom, kicking out the window screen, and hitting the dead-grass-covered backyard at a sprint. She vaulted the low picket fence and took off down the street, making right and left turns without checking to see if anyone was following her. By the time she stopped, her lungs burned like molten lava, her feet felt like they were skinned to the bone-which was entirely possible since she only had socks on-and she could feel her heart beating against her ribs like a frantic bird trying to escape a cage.   
  
She was on the other side of town in the business district. All of the shops were closed and there was no one around. She slumped down in a damp doorway and pulled her knees into her chest. All of her energy left her. It was cold, but that wasn't why she was shaking and trying to curl herself into the smallest ball possible.  
  
"Oh my God, Joe," she thought. "What did you do?"  
  
She wondered if he was alright, if he was sitting in some squad car or jail cell right now. Why hadn't she stayed to help?  
  
"I should have stayed, Joe, I should have been stronger. Why did you tell me to run?" But then, what could she have done? She was a fifteen-year-old girl whose only experience with defense involved fending off bullies who wanted her lunch money.  
  
She could feel the tears forming in her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she cried. But no, she bit back the tears and forced herself to get up. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she discovered that her feet were severely cut, and if she hadn't purposely run in the gutters and puddles, there would have been a bloody trail leading right to her. She cleaned off her cuts in the public restroom at the park, daubed at them with paper towels until the bleeding stopped. Then she put her socks on, which had holes like Swiss cheese.  
  
After that, she wasn't sure what to do. Would it be a good idea to go back? Did anyone see her leaving from the back? Probably not. They had kept their voices down to a whisper, even though Catherine had felt like screaming at Joe to spit out whatever he had been trying to tell her. Joe should have created enough of a distraction that no one would've noticed her slipping out the back way. She had been over the fence and around the corner, out of sight, in less than thirty seconds, running silently in her socks. At least thirty minutes had passed since she had run off, and it would take at least another thirty minutes to get back. It should be safe.  
  
When she got back to her street, she saw that no one was around. There weren't even nosy neighbors milling around. It was as if nothing had happened. She carefully examined every shadow and every bush before coming around the corner and approaching her house slowly. Her mother wasn't home yet, the car wasn't in the driveway. Slowly, she went up the porch steps, turned the door knob, and stepped back, waiting for something to jump out at her.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
The door creaked back on its hinges, revealing the dark, silent living room. The broken glass still lay on the floor. Everything else was in its place, like nothing happened. There were no signs of struggle, no signs of anything unusual, except for the broken door. The only thing new was a note attached to her computer that fluttered in the draft. Catherine reached for it slowly, as if she was afraid it might bite her. She had a sinking feeling that it might not bite, but it would hurt.  
  
Dear Catherine,  
  
I apologize for breaking your door. You were not here when I came over to say goodbye. I was hoping you would convince me otherwise, but your absence led me to carry out my plan. I am leaving you, Catherine. Whatever I said to you before, I was wrong and I apologize. Forget what I said and forget about me. I have gone to a better place.  
  
Sincerely,  
Joe  
  
Catherine looked at the note, dumbstruck. After what had happened, she knew that Joe didn't write it. Whoever left it for her to find must have thought that she wasn't here when the men came for Joe. Besides, he never called her Catherine in his other messages, always Munchkin or Smurf or at least Cat. Never Catherine. The entire note just sounded wrong. It was too mechanical, there weren't any contractions or slang. It was like some computer program wrote it.   
  
Catherine crumpled the note in her hand, crushing the paper until her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into her skin. Tears of frustration and anger and helplessness trickled down her cheek. It was the first time she had cried since her parents got divorced. Joe was gone, she knew that, but it wasn't suicide. They took him, whoever they were. And she had let it happen.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Joe," she whispered to the darkness. "I should have stayed here, if only to act as a witness. Then they couldn't have taken you. I could've screamed, I could've called for help, I could've...." What?  
  
The tears stopped, frozen as she felt herself becoming cold. She had failed him. Her weakness and fear had cost her her only friend. He had thrown himself at the door to hold off the men long enough for her to escape. She was unscathed because of him, and he was probably dead because of her.   
  
It was then that Catherine vowed never to let anyone die because of her failures again. Never again would she need saving. She would make herself strong, unbreakable, like steel.   
  
And she would find out who did this and destroy them. 


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.  
  
Note: I changed the ending to Chapter 3 once, and then tweaked it again. Make sure you read the final version. And yeah, I might do that with other chapters as I go along to make sure everything fits together, but I'll make a note if I do.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
A hiker found his body two days later at the bottom of a ravine in the foothills outside of town. There was an old bridge over it, which had been closed to traffic for decades, ever since people started committing suicide off of it. Every other year or so, there was at least one person who jumped to his or her death from it, despite the chain-link fence around it. People generally avoided it because rumors said that it was haunted.  
  
Catherine heard the news when she was at the Cabaleros offering her condolences. Two policemen delivered the unpleasant news. The official story was that Joe, after receiving a mid-semester report that he was failing all his classes, had become so depressed and frustrated that he went to Catherine for advice. Finding that she wasn't home to help him, he felt abandoned and drove off. Thinking that no one could help him and that everyone would be better off if he disappeared, he jumped off the old ravine bridge and fell seven stories to his death. The coroner's report indicated mass trauma to the head and back, caused by heavy blows. It was probably from hitting trees or an outcropping on the way down, or possibly hitting the side of the ravine and rolling toward the bottom. His car was found off to the side about a hundred feet from the head of the bridge.   
  
Mrs. Cabalero was so stricken at the news that all she could do was cover her face and cry out "my poor boy" over and over as the tears streamed down her face. Mr. Cabalero held his wife to comfort her, but also to comfort himself. The poor man looked like he had aged ten years in two days. Catherine could see the torment in his eyes whenever she looked at him: "Why didn't my son call me?" It pained her to see the Cabaleros in so much pain. They were like the parents she never had. She stayed around for a few days, helping with chores and cooking. By that time, she had already run out of tears and just felt numb.  
  
Catherine had called the police after finding the note, acting panicked as if she really believed it. She knew that whoever did this would be watching her to make sure that she really wasn't home when Joe came over, and so she performed exactly as they would have expected. She also stopped hacking for a while, suspecting that they were probably also watching her online. How else would they have known that Joe was going to her house that night? She wanted desperately to tell the Cabaleros that their son did not commit suicide, that he was killed for something he knew, but she couldn't put them in that kind of danger. To anyone who was watching, she looked defeated and finally willing to conform with the system, no longer as into computers as she used to be. On the inside, though, she was raging, thinking, planning her next move.  
  
The police had taken Joe's computer "to search for a motive." The Cabaleros were too deep in grief to complain or even care, but Catherine knew better. They would never get the computer back, or if they did, everything would be wiped clean. She had to find out what was on that computer.  
  
Using the public access computer at the county library, Catherine started looking for the hacker Joe had told her about, Dion. After one week, she still found no trace of him. It was like he had dropped off the face of the earth. What was it that Joe said? Ask him about the Kansas City IRS. Whatever he-they-found there, someone didn't want them to find it. That someone had a very long reach, had the police either working for him or had the ability to manipulate the police, had the ability to trace Joe to Catherine, and had the ability to cover up a murder. Catherine knew that to take these people on directly would be suicide, they had the entire system on their side and she was just a fifteen-year-old high school student. It didn't matter though, she wouldn't meet them head on but she would carry out Joe's final instructions to her. She would find a way to contact other members of the secret society at the university, find some way to reach Dion, or find a way to hack the Kansas City IRS d-base. Something was very wrong with her world, and she set out to find out exactly what it was.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
*nine months later*  
  
The summer heat was stifling, but at least the city library had air conditioning. To lessen the chances of getting traced despite her screens, firewalls, piggybacking, and other tricks, Catherine now used eight different places with computers: her own computer, the Cabaleros', the county library, the city library, the high school's, the junior high's, one Internet gaming arcade, and two Internet cafes. She needed the extra precautions because she had a feeling that she was getting closer.  
  
At first, she tried contacting the other members of the secret society at the university, but they had all gone underground-which meant that they were impossible to find, given that they were a SECRET society in the first place. There was still no trace of Dion, and she was worried that the same thing that happened to Joe had happened to him too. It wouldn't have surprised her.   
  
That only left plan C: hack the Kansas City IRS d-base. From what she heard, this was nearly impossible. The last hacker who tried and got through somewhat was Dion, and he had disappeared, either to protect himself or because something happened to him. But even he only made it far enough to knock on the back door, not get into the master bedroom. The answer to all of Catherine's questions was in there though, and she was determined to find out.  
  
The going was slow, because she had to keep up pretenses that she had moved on from her hacking days. She joined a community service club, did well academically, and even got to know some other kids at school. Between school and her job, she only had the weekends a few weeknights to carry out her plans.  
  
Three months into her search, she stumbled across a posting left a message board: The Matrix is everywhere. The message was signed by Dion. It was the first sign of him, according to other hackers who knew him, since November, which was around the time Joe died. Catherine tried to find Dion, but it was all in vain. She couldn't actively seek him out without exposing herself. She didn't know if whoever was watching had connected her to the hacker Trinity.  
  
What was the Matrix? She heard whispers of it and sometimes thought she caught fleeting shadows of it, but no one she asked ever knew. She spent two months searching for the answer, but all she found was rumor, theory, and superstition. Somehow, it was connected to what Dion found while hacking the Kansas City IRS d-base. Everything was pointing in that direction, and Catherine set out to do the impossible: hack the d-base and live to tell about it.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
*on board the Anubis*  
  
Link, the operator, waved Morpheus over to the monitors. She felt bad about disturbing him during his meal, but not too bad because the food sucked anyways. Zion had much better food, although she heard that it was nothing compared to what you "ate" inside the Matrix. Petite, pale, with short blond hair and perky blue eyes, she was born and raised in Zion, and so she never had the chance to find out what she was missing out on. It didn't matter though, because what you "ate" in there wasn't real. It was actually processed dead people, a thought which made Link want to hurl.  
  
"What is it?" asked Morpheus, coming up behind her.  
  
"Looks like your girl is going to go for it," she said, pointing to the monitor. "She's packing all of her clothes and erasing things on her computer. I say, she'll try to get into the IRS d-base tomorrow."  
  
"Then it looks like we're going have to move quickly," replied Morpheus. "I'll talk to Dion and see what he says about it, and tell Dante."   
  
Dion was their second-best programmer and an above-average fighter, audacious but somewhat reckless for someone freed so recently. They had pulled him out about a year ago, in November, after his semi-successful attempt to hack the IRS d-base put the Agents on his trail. Morpheus and Dante were able to get him out, but couldn't get to his friend, Technicolor, before the Agents did. The Agents killed Technicolor, making it look like a suicide.  
  
"Yeah, looks like his lure caught us a new fish," said Link, referring to his posting a few months ago.   
  
Actually, it caught several new potentials for different ships and was a time-tested way to find more. The resistance fighters often had newer crewmembers post on message boards because their fellow hackers probably remembered them. It was the best way to set potentials chasing after the truth.  
  
Morpheus first noticed the potential after they failed to reach Technicolor in time, watching the way she behaved to throw off suspicion. He had barely noticed her slipping out the back when the Agents caught Technicolor; she was almost invisible in the green code. This had led him to suspect that she was different, that she could potentially be the One. Her cunning and her caution made her a very attractive potential and he kept a close watch on her before notifying Dante.  
  
Now was the time to bring her out, but it would be very tricky. They would wait until after she hacked into the IRS d-base, knowing that what she would find there would send her running. Then, it was a matter of getting to her before the Agents did. If she was good and covered her tracks well, they would be able to reach her first. If she made a mistake, like Technicolor did while following Dion's footsteps, then her chances of survival diminished dramatically. However, the advantage was that she would definitely take the red pill-she would have no other choice, once her eyes had been opened to the great lie. Morpheus turned to find Dion and Dante. They needed to formulate a plan. 


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.  
Chapter 5  
  
Catherine took one last look around her living room. It was the room she spent the most time in, the room with the computer, and this was probably going to be the last time she saw it for a while. She had spent the last month thinking about her plan: how she would carry it out, whether it would work, what she would do afterwards, where would she go, and if this was a really stupid idea. Her plan, while not foolproof, was the best she could do given the scarce information she had. No one knew what was in the Kansas City IRS d-base, but it probably wasn't tax records. What she would do depended on what she found inside. However, she did her best to prepare for the worst, knowing that chances were slim that she would be able to continue her life as Catherine Morgan, high school junior. She was ready to move on though, sick of going through the motions at school and just doing her time. The homework was a nuisance, the kids were all oblivious to the real world-they still played their stupid popularity game-and even the teachers seemed to know that this was really just the government's way of babysitting teenagers. She didn't have anyone who would really miss her, except maybe the Cabaleros and maybe her mother, and she would check in on them every once in a while. She was ready to go.  
  
The sun had set, she had gotten the afternoon off from work, and her clothes and anything else she'd need for the month had been stuffed into a large backpack and hidden underneath a bush in the city park. Her bank account was almost empty now; she had withdrawn most of her savings-$1,000-in uneven increments over the last two months and stashed it in an envelope taped to the back of the couch so that her mother wouldn't find it and use it to buy booze. Also, this way, whoever was watching her couldn't trace her whereabouts through the bank system.  
  
Catherine sighed, thinking of her mother. Over the last three years, her mother had slowly descended into alcoholism. She seemed to soak the habit into her skin just like cigarette smoke seeped into her lungs. As the pile of bills got higher, so did the pile of empty beer cans and pilfered liquor bottles. Now all Catherine's mother did was go to work, come home, curse her life, and drink herself into a stupor. Catherine had tried to talk with her mother and to help out-she worked twenty hours a week at the grocery store-but to no avail. Her mother had resigned herself to a slow downward spiral.  
  
Tonight, Catherine made a sandwich for her mother, placed it on a paper plate, and put a note underneath it:  
  
Dear Mom,  
  
I have decided that it is time for me to leave. Please eat something healthy and take care of yourself. You know that drinking is only going to make matters worse. I remember how you used to be full of determination and hope. Maybe my leaving will serve as a wake up call and you will remember how you used to be too. You can still get your life back together, it's not too late. Mom, I love you and I believe in you. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine, but it's time for me to move on.  
  
Love,  
Catherine  
  
Checking that all the lights were turned off, that she hadn't left anything behind, and that everything suspicious on her hard drive had been erased, Catherine closed the door quietly behind her.  
  
****************************************************************  
  
She had chosen the busiest Internet café in the area for her attack, so that she would be somewhat lost in the crowd. It was a Friday night, and there were a good number of people milling around. This was only her second time at the place; she had purposely avoided it to save it for just this occasion. She had passed by the place several times before, observing the workers, the waiters, and the layout of the place in case she needed to make an emergency exit. If she was going to concentrate on hacking into the IRS database, then she would need the front cashier be her lookout. Most of the cashiers were teenage cyberpunk-nerd guys, the type who appreciated girls with a pretty smile, a nice body, and girls who knew the difference between Common Lisp and Scheme. A lot of them also played video games and probably dreamed of saving some scantily-clad damsel in distress. Perfect.  
  
Tonight, she waited until a station in the far corner was open, next to the kitchen door where waiters brought out food. The station was on the other side of another, so that the monitor faced the wall and no one could peer over her shoulder. She could survey the crowd without being easily spotted. Also, the kitchen door made for a quick exit. When the station she wanted was finally free, she went up to the cashier and smiled sweetly.  
  
"Excuse me, Jason?" she said, reading his nametag.  
  
"What's up?" he said, sizing her up from behind the elevated cashier stand. The elevated platform allowed him to survey the entire cafe from his perch. It also allowed him to look down girls' shirts, if any happened to come in. Most of the customers were teenage boys like himself. He liked what he saw at the moment though. She was pretty in a cute sort of way, with short dark hair, clear skin, killer blue eyes and from what he could see, a nice body.  
  
"Can I get station #23?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"Uh, sure, how long do you want it for?" he said, smiling a little.  
  
"Two hours would be nice. Also, would you mind doing me a big favor?" Catherine said, making her voice just a bit huskier and leaning forward just a bit.  
  
"Um, sure," said Jason, obviously a little intrigued.  
  
"There's this perv who's been stalking me, he's old enough to be my dad," she said. "If you see him, he's probably wearing some type of suit, could you send me a message through the network? Just anyone who looks suspicious."   
  
"Someone's been giving you trouble, eh?"  
  
"Yeah, could you help me?" Cue wimpy damsel-in-distress look.  
  
"Sure, no problem, anything you want."   
  
Bingo. Piece of cake.  
  
"Thanks, I knew I could count on you." She flashed him her best smile and sauntered away, trying not to either laugh or gag. So that's what it felt like to be one of those cheerleaders at school. She felt like a piece of meat on display, but it was worth it if Jason would act as her lookout.   
  
Settling into her seat, she took one final look around to make sure no one was paying attention to her and that she had a clear line to the kitchen door. Satisfied, she set about unraveling the mystery that had cost her her friend and any chance of leading a blissfully ignorant life.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
*90 minutes later*  
  
"Oh my God," she whispered to herself, looking at what was on her screen.  
  
She had managed to follow in Dion's steps by picking up on traces of his activity that he left behind, sort of connecting the dots. Then she went two steps further than he had gotten and actually broke into the system. The amount of security she had to break through showed that this was top-secret information. It wasn't just tax records. What Catherine saw before her nearly knocked her to the ground, and she wasn't easily shaken to begin with.  
  
On her screen were records of different people the government was keeping an eye on. There were files on terrorists like Morpheus, but also ones on people she knew from online and also one on her. It was her file that caused her to swallow hard and wish this was all a dream.  
  
Name: Catherine Morgan  
Alias: Trinity  
Age: 16  
Address: 303 E. Hart Dr., Allentown, KS  
Height: 5'6"  
Weight: 118 lbs.  
Eyes: Blue  
Hair: Black  
  
File started: 04/03/87  
Status: Active, high interest  
Last action taken: Termination of Joseph Cabalero, a.k.a. Technicolor.  
Recommendation: Monitor actions after termination. Subject appears to have ceased suspicious activities, although recently started emptying bank account. Suitable for termination upon further activities.  
  
What followed was a report on everything Catherine had done since she first started using computers. It listed all of the viruses she wrote, all of the places she hacked, everything. It also listed personal information like her acquaintances, hobbies, her parents' divorce, medical history, everything. The government had been watching her all along and not only that, had taken steps to stop her activities as Trinity. Killing Joe was one of those actions.  
  
Going through random files, she realized that similar things had happened to other hackers. Some were killed, others "re-educated" (she shuddered to think what that meant), and still others were manipulated until they did not have the means or the will to continue hacking. In some cases, files showed that the hacker's entire family was killed in a freak "accident" so that the hacker would become so depressed that he or she would stop hacking or doing anything really. Other cases had hackers arrested under bogus charges and sentenced to 30 years in prison. It was a conspiracy to destroy "troublemakers."  
  
Catherine felt her stomach turn to ice at the enormity of these revelations. Even if she got away with this, she would have to keep on looking over her shoulder for a long time, if not for the rest of her life. Her life would never be the same. It didn't sound so bad when she was planning it out, but now the seriousness of the situation finally hit her. She would be hunted, and if caught, she would be killed. There would be no trial, no jury, just an execution and a cover up, like what happened to Joe.   
  
Catherine looked around her at the people in the cafe. Some looked like they were engrossed in video games, others were sitting at tables sipping coffee and chatting. They were all oblivious to the conspiracy controlling their lives. They didn't know that their government was killing people and covering it up, was throwing people in jail and ruining people's lives. They were going about as if everything was alright. From the way they were smiling and her mind was whirling though, ignorance really looked like bliss.  
  
Catherine felt alienated from the people around her. She had never felt so alone in the world. It was the truth that she saw before her, the answer to the question that had driven her to learn everything and escape something she couldn't define. The government controlled everything and manipulated people to achieve its ends.......of what? She didn't know, but she knew that this was why she always had that feeling of being trapped and why she was always trying to escape that invisible thing. What was it? She had found the answer, but she wasn't sure of the question.  
  
She didn't have much time left. There was a good chance that the government was already aware that she had hacked into the database. She shuddered at the thought of what would happen. Suitable for termination upon further activities.   
  
She was searching for one file in particular: Morpheus. Her problem was that hackers were listed by their real names, and she didn't know Morpheus' real name. She had only stumbled across the name Morpheus three months ago when searching for the answer to Dion's posting, "The Matrix is everywhere." He was a former hacker and a terrorist quickly climbing up the FBI's most wanted list. Every time she tried to find more information on him though, she only ran into walls. From what Catherine found, Morpheus appeared on the FBI's radar about six years ago and they had been trying to find him ever since. What he did or why he was being sought was never explicitly stated, just that he was responsible for various "attacks."  
  
Searching through the files frantically, Catherine notice that a few hackers had been labeled "resistance member," followed by the words "terminate upon sight." Dion was labeled this way. Before she could question what was the "resistance," a message scrolled across the intercom at her station. She was expecting it to say that her two hours was nearly up, but instead it said, "Look up." She did so, and felt the color drain from her face. Three men dressed in suits and wearing sunglasses were entering the cafe.   
  
They knew. And they had found her.  
  
************************************************************************  
Author's Notes:   
  
1) I obviously don't know anything about hacking and programming. If anyone wants to explain things to me and help me flesh out Trinity's attack on the IRS d-base, feel free to e-mail me. Also, I dunno how long it would take to hack something, so if anyone wants to clue me in, feel free.  
  
2) No more spring break for me, so updates will probably come less frequently. I do intend to finish this fic though, so I'll hopefully update at least every weekend. It's going to be a long ride though. I'm not even halfway done (sitting at about a third of the way there). 


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.  
Chapter 6  
  
*two hours ago*  
  
On board the Anubis, five faces peered curiously and anxiously at the core's screen. Link, in the operator's chair, had one leg drawn in towards her while the other dangled carelessly. One hand played nervously with her short, ash-blond hair while she swiveled slowly back and forth in the chair. Behind her, Morpheus was trying to look impassive even though he was probably more nervous than any of his crewmates. He felt like a father watching his baby daughter taking her first steps: ecstatic that she was doing it, but worried as hell that she was going to get hurt. Trace, Cora and Dion were on either side of him, both with similar expressions on their faces.  
  
"Think she's actually going to do it?" asked Trace, the ship's medic.   
  
Trace didn't really understand what she was seeing on the screen, but that didn't matter-she was Zion-born, as most medics were, and couldn't jack into the Matrix. She would've been curious about what it was like living inside if it weren't for the bullet wounds and dead bodies she had to deal courtesy of the Matrix. After serving in the resistance for twelve years-losing several friends/shipmates along the way-Trace developed the reputation of being a mother figure on whichever ship she was on. It was no wonder either, since she was nearly 35 and most resistance fighters were freed in their teens and were lucky to reach 30. If it wasn't the Agents that got them, it was the cold, the malnutrition, disease, or squiddies.  
  
"Yeah, she's at the cafe now," said Link, the operator. "No Agents in the area, so she's all clear for now."  
  
"No, silly, she meant if the potential's able to hack the d-base," said Cora, the programmer. She was as excited as Morpheus about this one, but not for the same reasons. As the youngest member on board, it would be nice to have someone her age to talk to. The next closest people were Dion, who was 22, and Link, who was 25. Turning to Dion, she asked, "Think she can do it?"  
  
"I don't know, it was pretty tough when I tried," he replied, watching the screen. "I've never met her, but Joe-I mean, Technicolor-knew her. He talked about her like she was his kid sister."   
  
Hearing his voice drop a little, Cora patted him on the back. The crew knew that he still missed his friend and they all felt a little guilty that they weren't able to pull him out. Dion tried to smile though, which only made the crew want to pull this potential out successfully all the more. Maybe saving his friend's friend would help take away the pain. At least, he would have someone to talk to about it.  
  
"We'll get her out," said Morpheus, still looking at the screen. "I have a feeling that she's special. Besides, how else would we be able to know what she's doing before the machines? She's either very lucky, or she has Fate on her side."  
  
"I don't know," said Link. "They probably have a file on her, but she hasn't done anything too big before this. She's probably low-priority, so they're not keeping too close an eye on her."  
  
"You still think she's the One, huh?" asked Dion.  
  
"Yes, I do," said Morpheus.   
  
He saw the questions in the others' faces. They knew that he had been wrong the last two times with disastrous results. The first potential, four years ago, was killed by Agents on his first trip back into the Matrix after being freed. The other one, almost two years ago, was killed while they were trying to free her. Agents burst in on the crew as they were running the trace program. Dante and Morpheus were barely able to get out, but they lost Shadow and Ante, their two main fighters. They recruited Dion and Cora soon after that.  
  
The crew was silent, contemplating what Morpheus' belief this time could mean. If he was right, then they would be successful in getting the potential out, especially in a tricky operation like this one. If he was wrong though, more people could end up getting killed. The crew believed in their second-in-command; they heard the rumor that the Oracle said that he would find the One. But maybe third time isn't the charm. Morpheus wouldn't confirm or deny the rumor, no matter how much they bugged him about it. Rumors like this traveled fast though.  
  
It was time to find out if he was right.  
  
The five turned as they heard their captain, Dante, approaching the core.  
  
"How's she doing?" asked Dante, stopping abruptly in front of his crew.   
  
They all looked up to him, some of them literally because of his tall frame. He didn't appear particularly concerned about this mission, especially compared to the other two times that Morpheus had a feeling about a potential. Was something wrong, they wondered.   
  
"She's going through with it," replied Morpheus, observing the neutral expression on his commander's face. Better than the increasingly tired but not quite resigned look he was used to seeing.  
  
"Do we have a map of the area?"  
  
"Yes," said Link, pulling it up on one of the side screens. "The closest point of entry is a hardware store, one block away."  
  
"Other exits?" asked Dante. "We'll need somewhere farther away so we'll have time to hook her up and run the trace program."  
  
"How about the high school library?" asked Link. "It's on the other side of town, and she'll be familiar with the place. It'll help her calm down. The exit's in the archives room."  
  
"That will do. Morpheus, Cora, Dion, you're going in with me," said Dante. The three nodded. "Link, get ready to run the trace program. Trace, is the med bay ready?"  
  
Trace nodded.  
  
"Good. Help Ratch when he's getting ready to lower the claw, he's piloting the ship right now."   
  
Ratch was the seedy-looking mechanic, kind of quiet, kept to himself, but prone to random acts of kindness, which was something valuable in such a turbulent world.  
  
Dante took one last look at his crew before heading towards what Cora had dubbed the "game chairs." He was about to strap himself in when something occurred to him.  
  
"Wait, Morpheus," he said, signaling his lieutenant. "Do we have a copy of her RSI? We need to be able to recognize her immediately."  
  
"Yes, of course," said Morpheus, hiding his surprise that Dante hadn't seen even seen the potential yet.   
  
Thinking back on it, he remembered that when he first told Dante about Trinity, they were looking at her as code. The other couple of times he mentioned her, it was only to update Dante on her progress and there wasn't much to tell. In pretending that she believed that Joe's death was a suicide, she hid her activities from the Agents, which made it difficult to tell how far along she had gotten in her search for the truth. It had even surprised Morpheus, who didn't realize her plan to hack the d-base until Dion made the connection that she was following in his footsteps, taking similar actions that he had, only doing a much better job of covering it up. This was only a few days ago, since apparently Trinity did most of her planning in her head, leaving behind very little physical evidence. The crew didn't know anything except that she was planning something big because her bank account was slowly diminishing. They weren't totally unprepared to pull her out; they were just surprised that they would have to act with such short notice.  
  
Morpheus pulled up the image on one of the main monitors. Most of the people present had already seen it. Morpheus tried not to think about it as Dante not believing that she could be the One or, worse yet, not being interested at all. Finding and freeing potentials was the most exciting part of their duties because you never knew when you would be getting a new best friend, a dependable crewmate, or even the One. It would take a very depressed person to lose interest in something like what they were about to do.  
  
Dante merely glanced at image and was about to turn away when apparently something caught his attention. He froze in mid-turn and whipped around to look at the picture again.  
  
"This is her?" he asked, obviously surprised but trying to hide it.  
  
"Yes," said Morpheus. "Catherine Morgan, goes by 'Trinity.' Age 16, hacker and programmer, high athletic ability. She's very fast, very smart. With a little training, she should be able to give Agents a run for their money."  
  
Dante didn't seem to be paying attention because he barely nodded when Morpheus finished speaking. He was concentrating on the image, squinting a little and with his mouth hanging just a bit open, as he was confused or taken aback. That didn't make any sense though; it was so unlike Dante to be surprised by anything. At age 38, he had seen more death and destruction, experienced more tragedy and hope, than anyone could even imagine, yet he kept most of this inside himself. He rarely mentioned anything about his past, especially his life in the Matrix, waving it off because "it's over now so it doesn't matter anymore." The crew looked worriedly at their captain. Morpheus was about to ask if something was wrong when Dante broke out of his trance.  
  
"She's sixteen?"   
  
"Yes," answered Morpheus, carefully watching Dante.   
  
Taking in the raven hair, ice blue eyes, and angular face of the young girl, Dante tried to control the emotions that were threatening to spill out. He felt like crying, like screaming, like do something-anything-if it would only explain how this girl could be the one that Morpheus was intent on freeing. He didn't know her, but her features were unmistakable. She was an impossibility, a ghost out to haunt him. But this was no time to remember ghosts or shadows; his crew was waiting for him.   
  
"Is something wrong, sir?" asked Cora.  
  
"No," he answered in a tone that wasn't harsh but did not invite further inquiry. "Let's get going."  
  
His crew had no choice but to follow him, questions about their captain's reaction to the image running through their heads. Did he know her? Impossible, since from what they knew, he was freed at age 22, three months before Trinity was even born. And yet, they knew little else about his life before joining the resistance. It was a question that remained in the back of Morpheus's mind as they jacked into the Matrix and the world turned momentarily to black.  
  
****************************************************************  
  
Author's Note: Does anyone know how to italicize the text? I'm saving the chapters as text only documents, which erases whatever I italicize in the Word document. Is there a better way to do this? 


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.  
Chapter 7  
  
"Oh shit," thought Catherine, watching the three men approach the cashier. One of them held up a sheet of paper, and she was sure that it had her photo on it.  
  
"Stay where you are," said the young black man at the computer next to hers. She hadn't even noticed when he sat down next to her and had no idea how long he had been there.  
  
"What? Who are you?" she asked, surprised and not liking surprises at the moment.  
  
"I'm here to help you." The guy was typing something, Catherine couldn't see what, but he was also watching what was going on at the front of the café out the side of his eye.  
  
"When I get up, stand up directly behind me."   
  
"Why should I?" said Catherine, not liking being given orders. He wasn't much older than her, maybe 22, probably tall and slim, and his shaved head and stud earring made him look like some punk-ass trying to look cool.  
  
"Look, if you want to get out of here, you'll have to do what I say," said the stranger, getting impatient.  
  
Up front, the cashier (Jason?) was obviously playing dumb, shaking his head and shrugging. Catherine was glad that he was on her side, was glad that she was right when it came to picking him to help her, until she saw one of the men reach out and lift the boy up by his throat.  
  
"Oh my God," said Catherine, watching the boy scratching frantically at the man's hand around his throat.  
  
"Now!" whispered the stranger, standing up. Catherine had no choice but to follow. It was either listen to this guy or try to get away on her own from the man dangling the cashier like a rag doll. The cashier who was now pointing in her direction.  
  
The stranger got up, and Catherine did so behind him, her body momentarily hidden from view by his. A group of cyberpunk kids sitting at one of the café tables got up just in time to cover the pair as they headed toward the kitchen.  
  
"Pretend to tie your shoes."  
  
Catherine ducked down and made sure her shoes were tied, just as the cyberpunk kids moved away and left them vulnerable to the Agents' sight. Ducked down though, she was partially covered by the bank of computers.  
  
The stranger kept walking and opened the door to the kitchen, just as a waitress came out holding a tray full of drinks.   
  
"Thanks," she said, giving him a smile.  
  
"No problem," said the stranger, gesturing for Catherine to get up and go through the door. Catherine understood and used the waitress for cover. She scooted as low as she could through, giving one last look toward the front.  
  
The stranger looked up too, and saw that the Agents were coming towards them.  
  
"C'mon! Let's go!" He closed the swinging door and shoved a nearby cart in front of it.  
  
Catherine took off running, remembering where the exit was.   
  
"This way!" she gestured, pointing to the left. Cooks and busboys looked up bewilderedly. One of them started twitching, and then transformed into an Agent.  
  
"Shit," said the stranger, pulling the shocked Catherine behind him.  
  
They burst out the back door and ran down the alley. The stranger pulled out a cell phone, pushed a button, and yelled, "they're coming." Then he shoved the phone back in his pocket and they ran around the corner, dodging rotten lettuce, empty crates, and alley cats.  
  
"Faster!" he said, pulling Catherine along harder.  
  
"I can't!" The stranger was running unusually fast. She was sure that she'd trip any moment.  
  
To her surprise, he scooped her up, flung her over his shoulder, and continued running without breaking his stride. He actually sped up. Catherine held on for her life, trying to keep her head from smashing into the wall as the stranger made sharp turns down a maze of alleys. The Agent behind them was gaining. Where were the other two?  
  
"Grab my gun. Use it."  
  
Catherine reached and found the weapon tucked into his belt.  
  
A shot rang out and hit the brick building to their left as they made a turn around another corner.   
  
"Fuck!"   
  
The Agent was shooting out of a second story apartment window. The stranger turned around and went the other way. He whipped out his cell phone with his free hand.  
  
"Link, which way?"  
  
"Go left after the next street, and keep going northwest. They'll find you."  
  
He hung up and kept running, knowing that Morpheus and Dante would come through. The plan was shaky, but workable.   
  
A shot sang through the air, hitting the garbage can in front of them. Catherine raised the gun and fired. They rounded another corner, right before another bullet came at them.   
  
Catherine went still.   
  
"Oh shit," he thought. Did the bullet hit her?  
  
"You're Dion, aren't you?" Catherine finally figured it out, the realization making her pause. She'd never seen him before.  
  
"Yes," he said, relieved that she was alright.  
  
His phone rang.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Watch out, the girl!" yelled Link into the headset.  
  
Dion realized that Catherine was starting to twitch. An Agent was trying to possess her. He stopped in his tracks, dropped the phone, whipped out his knife, and stabbed her in the arm. The transformation paused for a second, giving Dion enough time to deliver a blow to the back of her head, knocking her out and making her unsuitable for the Agent.  
  
"Shit, where are they?" he thought, picking up the gun that Catherine dropped. His heart was racing. It seemed like forever had come and gone, but in reality, it had only been two minutes since they burst out the back door of the café.   
  
The Agent behind them caught up during the time it took Dion to disable Catherine. It stopped just inside the dark, narrow alley where Dion and Catherine were, pulled out its gun, and was about to fire when shots rang out from the roof. Dante and Morpheus, who had been running and jumping from roof to roof following Dion, were poised across from each other at the edge of the roof and fired down at the Agent from two different angles. The Agent ducked their first two bullets, but the third time, the three rebels fired at the same time and the Agent couldn't duck three bullets from three different angles. It fell and vacated the body of a middle-aged woman.  
  
"Let's go," said Dante. He jumped down into the alley, picked up the unconscious Catherine, and nodded at Dion. "Good work."  
  
"Thanks," said Dion, who was slightly out of breath. It was a good thing that Catherine was so skinny and light, but the run was tiring.  
  
They weren't done yet though. They had maybe thirty seconds before the Agents found another body and converged on them. The only reason why it would take the Agents that long was because Dion had set a course for the least populated area of the city as planned. Morpheus and Dante had spent the half-hour securing the area so that the Agents would have to go at least four blocks to find a suitable host. Morpheus drove up in the car, they got in, and sped off toward the high school ten minutes away.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
*at the school*  
  
Cora had just finished setting up when the three men brought the unconscious Trinity into the school library's archives room. Set up had taken longer than expected because she kept bumping into card catalogue cabinets and the cramped space made it difficult. Why here, of all places? she thought. Looking up as Morpheus, Dante and Dion came in, she gasped.  
  
"What happened to her? I didn't know you guys were going to knock her out."  
  
"Agent tried to possess her," said Dion. "Only thing I could do."   
  
He felt bad, but it was only a flesh wound. He had done his best to dress it during the car ride over and had managed to stop the bleeding. It would pose a problem when she woke up though, because she would have to use both her arms to get out of the pod. The injury could also get infected when the machines flush her into the sewage system. It was better than letting the Agent possess her because then she would've been a lost cause.  
  
"Is everything ready?" asked Dante. Cora nodded in response. "Ok, get ready to run the trace program. Dion, come with me."  
  
The two brought Catherine into the main library area where there were couches. They laid her down on one of them and Dante produced some smelling salts from his pocket. Waving them under her nose, she soon woke up.  
  
"Mmmmmm....." said Catherine, groggily. She went to rub the back of her head, where there was a pounding sensation, but froze immediately. "Fuck!" Red-hot pain invaded her arm when she tried to move it, making her clutch her arm with her other hand.  
  
"Shhh....don't move," said Dante soothingly. He stroked her head to lessen the headache. "You've been injured."  
  
"No shit. What the hell happened?" she said, blinking. As her vision cleared more, she saw two faces hovering over her. One was the smooth, youthful face of Dion and the other was the face of someone she had never met but looked strangely familiar. She stared, trying to figure out if he was someone she knew offhandedly. A teacher she never had, perhaps? There were so many at her school and she didn't know half of them yet.  
  
"I'm sorry, but it was for your own good," said Dion. "You saw what happened to the cook."  
  
Catherine remembered how the guy started twitching and all of a sudden morphed into one of the men who were chasing them. Watching that was like watching squirrels dancing in pink tutus: completely absurd and impossible. She remained silent for a while, trying to make sense of all the madness. After ten seconds, she gave up, decided that she wasn't in the mood to deal with morphing G-men. "Get a grip on yourself, Catherine," she thought. "First things first, deal with the situation at hand."  
  
"Who are you?" she asked out loud.  
  
"My name is Dante. I'm here to help you," he said.   
  
Catherine wasn't sure what to make of that. Truth be told, she wasn't sure what to make of anything she had seen in the last.....how long had it been since they left the café?  
  
"You've already met Dion, I imagine," he continued, gesturing to Dion beside him.  
  
"I don't need your help," said Catherine, not liking that she wasn't in control and didn't know what was going on. "I was fine until you showed up."  
  
"Well, maybe we need your help then," said Dante, kindly.   
  
He gestured for Dion to go help Morpheus and Cora continue making preparations. Dion nodded, gave Catherine an encouraging smile and exited the room.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" asked Catherine. "I don't appreciate being stabbed and hit in the head."  
  
"I apologize for that, but it was the only way to get you here safely," said Dante, pulling up a chair, sitting down, and leaning forward towards Catherine. Catherine sat up slowly, being careful to move her arm as little as possible.   
  
"Before I answer your question, I want to ask you one," said Dante. He clasped his hands before him and looked Catherine in the face. "Have you ever felt like the world is a dream?"  
  
Catherine was about to make some smart-ass remark when it occurred to her that he was right. She'd always had this feeling that the world around her was unreal and that the things happening to her weren't really happening. She felt that way especially after the death of Joe, because governments didn't commit murder and then cover it up in the real world. It was like she was floating in some alternate reality. The Twilight Zone, maybe.  
  
Dante could tell by her silence what her answer would've been. "Most people don't notice the dreamlike quality of this world, but some eventually do and they are the ones who are seeking the answers."  
  
Catherine acknowledged that she had been looking for answers.  
  
"Have you found the answer?" asked Dante.  
  
"I've found the question," she answered.  
  
Dante smiled a little, quietly pleased. "And what is the question?"  
  
"What is the Matrix." It was a statement, not a question.  
  
"I'm not sure, but you're going to tell me."  
  
It was very straightforward and a little bold of her, this command, which pleased Dante even more.   
  
"I can do more than that, Trinity, I can show you."  
  
"How do you know that name?"  
  
"I know many things that I'm willing to share with you, but only if you want to know."  
  
"I want to know," said Catherine without hesitation.  
  
"Do you really? Even if it will cost you this life?"  
  
"This life?"  
  
"Yes, because once I show you the answer, you can never go back," he said. "You are at an identity crossroad. Going down one road will lead to your fate as Catherine Morgan; going down the other will lead to your fate as Trinity."  
  
Catherine thought about this. Her life was over anyways, because now the entire fucking government would be after her. So many things happened tonight that she still wasn't sure if what she saw wasn't some hallucination. It was like the night Joe died-everything was surreal. She had prepared herself for tonight, but she didn't foresee such insanity.  
  
"My life is already over," she replied. "I have nowhere to run. I'm ready to move on."  
  
"Very well. I will give you one last chance," said Dante, fishing a silver case out of his pocket and emptying its contents into his hand. Catherine saw that there were two pills, a red pill and a blue pill. He put one in each hand and held them up before her. "If you take the blue pill, you will continue as Catherine Morgan. If you take the red pill, you will be reborn as Trinity and you will know the truth. Choose your life carefully."  
  
Catherine made to reach for the red pill.  
  
"Remember," said Dante, "I cannot tell you what your fate will be and I make no guarantees. I can only show you the truth. You decide the possibilities."  
  
Catherine nodded, took the red pill, and swallowed it without water.  
  
"Follow me, we don't have much time."  
  
The two went into the back room, where Dante's crew had finished setup. Dion escorted Catherine to what looked like the electric chair.  
  
"Wait a minute," she said, stopping in her tracks.  
  
"It's alright, the chair is just to make sure you don't hurt yourself," said Dion. "I went through the same thing. Just sit still."  
  
Catherine settled into the chair, trying to relax. Taking deep breaths, she looked around the room. Dante was supervising a young girl who couldn't have been more than 19 and a young man who looked in his mid-to-late twenties.   
  
Noticing her looking at the others, Dion explained, "The girl with the freckles and short red hair is Cora, she's our programmer. The older black guy next to her is Morpheus. He's the second-in-command."  
  
"Are you guys some kind of army?"  
  
"You could say that. You'll find out everything on the other side."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You'll see."  
  
Catherine didn't like that. There was no going back though, so she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to relax.  
  
"You knew Joe, didn't you?" she asked, her eyes still closed.  
  
"Yeah, I knew him. We can talk about that later," he answered. "How we doing?" he asked the others.  
  
"Closing in," said Morpheus.  
  
Catherine could feel the temperature in the room dropping. It kept getting colder and colder, she felt like she was sinking into the chair, the world was warping...  
  
"Close your eyes," said Dion, holding her still when she tried to get out of the chair. "Just close your eyes, think of your favorite song."  
  
"It's so cold, oh my God, it's so cold." She was starting to panic, the room was swimming, she couldn't see, it was like she was being sucked out of the room. "Oh my God."  
  
"You're fine."   
  
"Oh shit, somebody..."  
  
"Just hang on, Trinity."  
  
"It's so cold, oh my God, oh my GODDDD.........."  
  
******************************************************************************  
  
She saw pink and tried to touch it. Something restrained her and she couldn't understand. It was so hard to move and....oh God, she couldn't breathe. She was drowning, choking on something. The pink was all around her, drowning her, holding her down. She had to get out.  
  
She lashed out, but pain immediately shot up her arm. Still, she struggled to get out, get away from the cold and the sucking thickness surrounding her. Her lungs burned as she frantically struggled and tried to pant but couldn't. With one final effort, her good arm broke through.  
  
She struggled up through the small opening, forcing her head through, digging with her feet, until she was free. Choking, she pulled the tube out of her mouth, gasping for air. Panting, she clutched her injured arm and leaned against the side of the pod to catch her breath.  
  
Her mind was a mess, questions and thoughts crashing into each other like chaotic stars. She looked down and saw another pod much like the one she was in. She realized that there were thousands, maybe millions, that she was impossibly high up and the thought made her nauseous.  
  
A horrifying creature flew up to her, stretched out its claws, and pounced upon her. She tried to scream, and struggled as it unhooked the tubes and cords attached to her but only gasps came out. The creature dropped her, leaving her limp, and she was flushed out the back of the pod.  
  
She screamed as she slid down the slimy dark slide; her stomach felt like it was coming up her throat. She flailed out wildly but her hand only hit the side of the pipe, scraping skin off her knuckles. The end of the terrifying ride came suddenly as she came out the end, seemed to hang in the air forever, and was plunged into cold darkness.  
  
The Anubis, hovering over the sewage exit, lowered its claw after her like one of those arcade games kids love to play but never win at. The crew was experienced though, and slowly reeled her up into the ship.  
  
**************************************************************************  
  
Morpheus found Dante sitting beside the operating table, facing but not looking at Trinity, who lay unconscious on the table, wrapped in blankets to keep her warm. It had been ten hours since she came on board, and Dante had hardly left her side except when Trace and Cora shooed the men before cleaning her off, dressing her wounds, and starting the rebuilding process. The entire crew was excited, but Trace insisted that they keep their voices down. Now, Dante was keeping watch over her voluntarily while Trace and Cora slept. He was so lost in thought that he didn't move until Morpheus cleared his throat and asked the question that everyone on the ship was wondering. Dante had hardly said a word since Trinity came on board, and none of them forgot his reaction to her picture before they went in. They were worried about their captain, but did not want to push him. They decided that since Morpheus was the most senior of them and knew Dante the best, he would be the one to broach the subject.  
  
"Sir, do you know her?" asked Morpheus.   
  
"What do you think?" Dante said, not looking up.  
  
"I'm not sure what to think."  
  
Dante remained silent. It wasn't a matter of explaining his thoughts, because the words felt like a torrent being held back by the shakiest dam. But he didn't want to re-live the memories. He didn't want to go back to the day he was unplugged, back to the horror, the anguish, the utter darkness when his eyes first saw light. He wouldn't have broken out of his pod, would've probably let the cold fluids surrounding him numb him back to darkness, except the image of his wife made him want to scream, to lash out, until he finally broke free of the pod and of everything else.  
  
Dante saw the concern in Morpheus's face, and knew that he would have to tell his story sometime. Maybe the Oracle was right. Maybe there was a grand scheme to things.  
  
Morpheus, sensing that this was going to be a long story, pulled up a chair beside the operating table and faced Dante, waiting for him to begin.  
  
"Take all the time that you need," he said. "I can see the story fighting to get out of you."  
  
Dante smiled half-heartedly. "Sometimes, I forget that I am the older man here. You are wise beyond your years, Morpheus."  
  
"We all are," replied Morpheus. "The war forces us to be like this, and so we adapt. Those who don't adapt, die."  
  
Dante nodded, knowing that it was true. "When I'm gone, you will become a great captain, Morpheus. You will be the one to lead this war."  
  
"But sir-"  
  
"I mean it," said Dante, looking Morpheus straight in the eye. "I know that my time is growing short. I can feel the forces of Fate converging on me. If this girl is the One, I know that I will die to save her. But don't worry, the Oracle said that my end will pave the way for the realization of the One."  
  
"Does knowing that bring you comfort?"  
  
"Yes, if it ensures her survival," said Dante, gesturing to the unconscious Trinity. "I won't let her die a third time."  
  
"Third time?" Listening to Dante talk was sometimes like looking at a picture with missing pieces. Big pieces.  
  
"Yes. I've never told anyone on this ship about the day I was freed, or what the Oracle told me later. I think that now is time."  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Author's Note: Finally, an update. Got all my papers and crap behind me. Uh, sorry if it's a little skimpy on details, but I'm tired right now. Maybe I'll go add more details later. Anyways, let me know what you think.  
  
1) If anyone finds any inconsistencies, let me know. It's been a while since I've touched this story, so if I say Cora has brown hair in chapter 6 and red hair in this chapter, let me know. Hard to keep everyone in my head. Too lazy to write everything down (besides, that's what I'm doing by writing this story). 


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun. Crew of the Anubis (minus Trinity and Morpheus) belong to me.  
  
Author's Note: For a better idea of what Dante looks like, check out the cover of Devil May Cry 2 (guess where I got the name Dante). No, this is not a crossover.  
Chapter 8  
  
*on board the Anubis*  
  
The crew of the Anubis gathered in the med bay. Dante remained seated beside the operating table, where Trinity lay unconscious. Earlier, Trace had clucked and cooed over Trinity's injuries like a mother hen, cleaned her up with the help of Cora ("Ouch, good thing she's unconscious," said Cora, swabbing the scrapes and cuts with a disinfecting gel known to sting enough to make grown men tear up), and applied the acupuncture needles. Trinity lay covered in strategically placed towels and blankets, her face pale and blank as if she were dead, and would stay that way for quite a while. The crew would've gathered in the mess hall, but someone had to watch Trinity and another person would have to keep an eye on the ship and look out for squiddies. Only Ratch didn't mind missing out on Dante's story (Dion would fill him in later) and so he was watching the ship. The Anubis was parked on a stable ledge protruding from the mouth of a large cave. They were in an underground cavern, away from the tunnels and caverns where squiddies liked to roam, but someone still had to keep an eye out. Since no one else wanted to miss the story, they compromised and stayed in the med bay.  
  
Trace and Cora leaned against the operating table facing Dante, while Dion squatted on the floor and Morpheus took the only other chair in the room. Link brought her pillow from her room and sat cross-legged on top of it, looking like a genie or a pixie because of her perky blue eyes and the halo of short blond hair around her head.   
  
Everyone was settled and ready, eyes on Dante and ears perked. They're like children waiting for story time to start, thought Dante. The thought made him smile a little, except he knew that the smiles would disappear once he began his tale.  
  
"Thank you all for being here," he started. "I appreciate your concern."  
  
Cora smiled encouragingly, reached up and squeezed his hand. "Hey, we're all worried about you, we all care, more than you think. You're not just our captain, you're like a father to us."  
  
"Yeah," said Dion. "We've been worried about you for a while now. You seem like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders and it's getting heavier."  
  
"It's because you punks always get into trouble and I have to get you out," said Dante, trying to lighten things up. That got him some smiles from his crew.   
  
"I know you have a lot of questions," he continued, "and I think the best way to answer them and tell you what I think about our new recruit is to tell you what the Oracle told me. To understand that though, you'll have to know my story."  
  
Dante paused, once again thinking about the past. The life seemed to go out of his eyes as his mind traveled back in time, replaced by a darkness that only suffering and sadness could produce, and he looked like an empty husk before his crew. His blond hair seemed to lose its luster and his skin looked sallow and slack. Morpheus, in particular, was worried about this aspect of his captain. He knew that Dante probably didn't know how much his mind-travels worried his crew.  
  
"Sir?" asked Morpheus, tentatively.  
  
"Yes Morpheus?" said Dante, coming back from wherever he went.  
  
"Nothing," said Morpheus. "Tell us your story."  
  
Dante nodded and cleared his throat. "It's hard to think about my life before I was unplugged. How many years has it been, maybe fifteen years already? Sixteen? I'm an old man now compared to then and I can feel it in my bones. Back then, I could've leapt from building to building even before I was unplugged and knew about the Matrix, or at least I felt that way. I felt like I could fly, I had my entire life before me and I was going to do something great. I was young and daring and in love. Carrie was so beautiful and full of life, she was there with me every step of the way. I loved that about her, just the way she took on each experience and sucked the marrow out of it and wanted more. She was never afraid of anything or anyone. We were married the year before and we had a baby on the way. Everything was so perfect it was ridiculous. We even had the house with the frickin' white picket fence. It was the only time in my life when I was truly happy...."  
  
*********************************************************************************  
  
*flashback*  
  
I grew up in a working middle-class neighborhood, in the suburbs I guess you could say, the only child of a high school teacher and a dentist. That's about as boring as you could get, or at least I thought so. I did the whole Boy Scouts and Little League bit, played short stop until I decided that baseball wasn't cool anymore. Meanwhile, I'd go on little adventures through the neighborhood with some of the other boys my age that went to my school. The five of us, we'd climb trees, ride bikes really fast down inclines, pretend we were pirates or Mafia men or something like that. Of course, whenever we played Mafia, I'd be the boss and order the other kids around.   
  
It was while playing Mafia that I first met Carrie. We were thinking about what the gang could do one afternoon because the boys on Magnolia had formed another gang and said that they were our rivals and were taking over the nearby park. It occurred to Frankie, who was supposed to be the skinny gunman, that we were missing something. We weren't really a Mafia because we didn't have a "doll." All of the Mafia movies had dolls, and sometimes they came in handy. At the very least, they could cook us spaghetti. Being the boss, I was supposed to be the one with the girl. I didn't like the idea because girls were....well, girls and I didn't want one in my gang. She'd probably make us comb our hair and wash under our fingernails. Bottom line: she'd mess the gang up. Bobby suggested that we get ourselves a tough doll so we wouldn't be a wimpy Mafia and could get the park back, or at least the swings. I didn't want a girl in the gang though, even a tough one.  
  
Carrie must've heard us arguing because she came over. Her family had just moved into the neighborhood about two weeks ago, and Frankie had her in his class. None of us really knew her because she hung around with the other girls and we'd all rather be caught dead than talking to a girl. At any rate, she came over and asked if she could join us.   
  
"No," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "No girls allowed."  
  
"Well, you guys said that you needed a tough girl, and I'm a tough girl," she said.  
  
We looked her over. She wasn't wearing any pink, which would've automatically disqualified her, and she was wearing pants instead of a dress. Shawn pointed out that she didn't have any braids, which meant she wasn't a prissy girl but Kevin noted that her shoes were too clean for her to be a tough girl. Her wavy black hair, dark as midnight, was drawn back in a ponytail with a ribbon tied around the rubber band.  
  
"She's got that stupid bow in her hair though," I said. "Shows you she's stupid."  
  
"Hey, who're you calling stupid?"  
  
"You, of course," I countered, "or are you too stupid to know that?"  
  
"Hey, at least I'm not as stupid as you are," she yelled back.  
  
"Oh yeah? Well what if I take your bow?" I said and yanked it right off her ponytail.  
  
"Hey! Give that back!" she yelled.  
  
"I don't want to," I said, and held the ribbon behind my back.  
  
"I said, give it back!"  
  
"Make me!"  
  
By this time, my gang had stepped back, eagerly waiting to see what would happen. Shawn said to Frankie, in a not-so-quiet whisper, "Oh no, she's going to cry now."  
  
To everyone's surprise, instead of crying, she launched herself straight at my stomach and knocked me off my feet. I was too stunned to do anything except barely catch myself with my arms and landing on my side with her on top of me. She reached for the ribbon but switched it to my other hand. I rolled out from under her but she grabbed my shirt so I couldn't get up. I strained against her hold until she suddenly let go and I went sprawling on my face again with a "Oof!" She took this opportunity to scramble over me and grab hold of her ribbon. I wouldn't let go though, because I wasn't about to lose to some girl.  
  
My gang was circling around, shouting at me "Get her!" or "Hit her!"  
  
"Are you nuts? I can't hit a girl," I shouted back from the pavement. I froze as I realized what I'd just said. "Oh crap, she's going to hit me," I thought, "and I can't hit back."  
  
We were still tangled in each other but she had the upper hand. When she heard that I couldn't hit her, she smiled and raised her arm to whack me a good one when my trusty gang pulled her off me. She was still kicking at them by the time I got to me feet.  
  
"Just give her the stupid ribbon, Patrick," said Bobby to me.  
  
"Fine, I don't want it anyway." I threw it at her and she caught it, sticking her tongue out at me. I was pretty sore, but my ego hurt much more than my scraped elbows and hands.  
  
Kevin, the chubby kid in our gang, started laughing, saying, "Ha, you were beaten up by a girl!"  
  
"Shut up, Kevin. It's just because I couldn't hit her," I said sourly.  
  
"So can I play now?" she asked. "I'm tougher than all of you."  
  
We thought about it. She may have been tough-I gave her that-but she was still a girl and the other gang would probably make fun of us for hanging around with a girl.  
  
"Hey," said Frankie, who was the brains of the outfit, "if none of us can hit a girl, that means the other gang can't hit a girl either."  
  
A light bulb went off in our heads. We'd be unstoppable with Carrie in our gang because the other gang didn't have a doll, and we doubted that they'd find one that would take out a boy like she just tried to. And if they couldn't hit her back, then there was nothing they could do.  
  
"I don't know though," I said. "If she gets hurt and starts crying, we'd get into trouble."  
  
"I almost made you cry," she said.  
  
"Shut up," I said, still sulking.  
  
She started giggling at my apparent misery, her green eyes flashing. She wiped at her face but only smudged more dirt onto the end of her little button nose. We both looked ridiculous with our hair mussed and grime all over our faces. It was her laugh that broke the tension and from that day on, she was part of the gang.  
  
*********************************************************************************  
  
*on board the Anubis*  
  
"And that's how I met Carrie," said Dante. "She lived a block away from me, two doors down from Shawn, and we went to the same schools."  
  
"Your future wife kicked your ass?" laughed Link. "That's so awesome. I'd like to meet her."  
  
"Well, she didn't really kick my ass," countered Dante. "Like I said, I couldn't hit her back and she took advantage of that."  
  
"Yeah, whatever," said Cora, trying to hold back her giggles.  
  
Dante sighed with a smile and shook his head. "I'm never going to live that one down. She told me so, and I believe her."  
  
"So where is she now?" asked Morpheus.  
  
The smile faded from Dante's face. He was quiet for a moment, and then said, "I'm not sure. It's complicated. It's the next part of my story."  
  
"Like I said, we went to the same schools, we sometimes had the same classes," continued Dante. "In high school, I hung out with Bobby, Shawn, Frankie, and Kevin; she had her own girl circle of friends but also hung out with us. She cut off her long wavy Barbie hair in sophomore year and went for a sleek look, slicking her short hair back and wearing very little make-up. She didn't need make-up, she had a natural pinkish blush to her cheeks complimented with high cheek bones and porcelain skin. All of the guys in high school apparently thought she was hot, and the fact that she refused to take shit from anyone just made her hotter. To us, though, she was just Carrie, almost like a little sister to us. It wasn't until junior year that I realized that she was a girl."  
  
Trace snorted. "Excuse me, but I know how teenage boys think and from how you just described her right now, you already thought she was hot. No one describes their kid sister like that. You just couldn't admit to yourself until junior year that you liked her."  
  
Dante gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah, you're right. I think I liked her from the moment she beat me up way back in like second or third grade, I forget when exactly it happened. No one had challenged me before that, I was just accepted as the leader. Of course, I didn't know that I liked her then. She was annoying and I always had these thoughts of mean things I could do to her, but now that I think about it, I was just confused."  
  
"Yeah, I remember doing mean things to girls that I liked when I was little," said Dion. "Stupid stuff like pulling their hair or putting bugs into their desks. Never understood why I did all those things until later."  
  
"You people are weird," said Link. "Anyways, what happened?"  
  
"We started hanging out more, just her and me. It was nothing big, just going to the park or grabbing McDonalds or hanging out at my house. Senior year came and so did prom, so I asked her to prom. We were going as friends of course, and some of her friends went with some of my friends. Kevin and Bobby went with their girlfriends and teased us relentlessly. We'd just brush it off, not wanting to admit that friends don't usually feel like this toward each other. Our relationship had developed like the ones in those cheesy chick flicks, where a guy and a girl start out as friends and then become a couple, but we couldn't help it. We'd laugh about it, ignore it, do whatever we could to keep from admitting that our feelings for each other had passed the friendship zone about a year ago, maybe longer. We held out until high school graduation, when we became a couple.   
  
"I went to the state university and majored in computer engineering; she went to a private college nearby and majored in chemistry. I excelled at programming and system design; she was brilliant in bio-chemistry and wanted to cure the world's diseases. We saw each other on weekends and weeknights when our workload wasn't too heavy. I'd sleep over in her dorm or she'd come over to my off-campus apartment sometimes. I got to know her hallmates well and she knew my roommate (who sometimes got pissed about sleeping on the couch but decided that he'd rather do that than listen to our 'games of tonsil hockey,' as he liked to put it). What I remember most vividly about our college years were the nights when we'd cuddle up together under the covers with me spooning her, my arms holding her close and her bare back pressing into my chest and stomach. I loved the feel of warm skin on skin, tucking my face into the crook of her neck and smelling her freshly shampooed hair. I swear I could stay in that position forever. She was a paradox to me: feminine but tough as nails, beautiful but not delicate, so passionate but still mysterious. I was madly in love with her.   
  
"On the date of our four-year anniversary of being a couple, I asked her to marry me and she said yes. We got married in August, it was a beautiful day, and Carrie looked absolutely stunning. Her eyes, brimming with tears of happiness, shone like the first drops of spring dew, and we were so happy and in love. I was 23, she was 22 and a half, and we had graduated from college eight months ago. I was recruited by a software company during junior year and paid ridiculous amounts of money for a part-time job, and my paycheck increased when I graduated and started working full-time. She was immediately picked up by one of the leading pharmaceutical research labs after graduation, and together we were able to pay the down payment for a cute little cottage in the suburbs, not far from where we grew up. Four months after that, she became pregnant with our first child. I was walking on air. Everything was like a storybook tale. I remember thinking that I was on top of the world and that nothing could take that away from me."  
  
Dante stopped and looked distressed, his lips twitching so that he had to bite down on them and his eyebrows were scrunched together with emotion. He turned away briefly, taking deep breaths and trying to relax his face and let the feelings die away. The crewmembers gave each other concerned looks. Dante put a hand up, signaling for them to give him a moment to gather himself. He was used to trying to hide his emotions and wasn't about to break down in front of his crew.   
  
"We could continue this some other time," offered Morpheus.  
  
"No, I have to tell this story now," said Dante, finally regaining his composure. His breathing returned to normal and his eyes were only a little bright. "It's just that remembering how my life used to be reminds me of how far from heaven I have fallen."  
  
"It's Ok, honey," said Trace, her mothering mode kicking in. "Here, you look like you need one of these," she said, approaching Dante and giving him a hug.  
  
Dante gave a sad little laugh. "Yeah, thanks Trace. You're always there to clean us up after battles, whether emotional or physical."  
  
"No problem, kid," said Trace, even though Dante was older than her. "We've all lost something in this war. Some would say that the price of resistance is too steep, but those are the people who have lost faith. I've seen more death and destruction than some of you younger kids can imagine, but I still have faith that our losses will not be in vain. The One will return, and humans will triumph in the end."  
  
Everyone nodded in agreement with her words and seemed to be lost in their own reflections of what they had lost for the cause.  
  
"Regardless of whether or not the prophecy is true, we have no choice but to keep fighting," said Dante. "I know that I will not live to see the fall of the machines, but I have to continue. I promised Carrie that I would."  
  
The crew settled back down to hear the rest of the story.   
  
"I guess it started when I took on a project called Infinity for the government shortly after I found out that Carrie was pregnant. My company was contracted by the government to develop a program to trace and disrupt signals not hooked up to the mainframe. The idea was to trace and destroy the computer hook-ups of terrorist-hackers and prevent them from damaging the government's databases and programs. The government had run into problems developing an effective program and wanted fresh ideas. It was while working on the project that I first heard about the Matrix."  
  
*********************************************************************************  
  
More notes: Some of my characters seem kinda like cookie-cutter characters to me. What do you think? I've always been better at working with big picture and not very good with character development. I'm open to tips or help. I might be looking for a beta reader or just someone to bounce some ideas off occasionally. There are all these elements that I want to incorporate into my story, so it gets kind of confusing sometimes. 


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